


Class of the Magi

by Fanforthefics (StormDancer)



Series: Hockey Tumblr Oneshots [25]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Established Relationship, Graduate School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-27 17:40:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16706998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormDancer/pseuds/Fanforthefics
Summary: “Why are you even TAing a Russian class?” Sid demands, because that’s easier than freaking out completely.





	Class of the Magi

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: teacher/student AU. 
> 
> Don't know, don't own, etc.

Sid gets out of bed early, like he always does. It is, maybe, hard to leave the warmth of the bed, but he’s been doing his early morning workouts for years now and he’s not going to stop now. 

So he wakes up early, rolls out of bed, and goes for a run. It’s the best sort of wake up there is, he’s always thought, getting his muscles moving, watching the town wake up. 

Then he gets back, downs about a bottle of gatorade, and jogs back into the bedroom, where the lump on the bed still hasn’t moved. 

“Hey.” Sid leans down, shakes his shoulder. “Wake up.” 

Geno rolls over, gives Sid a baleful look. “Nyet.”

Sid grins at him. His hair’s all messy, and he looks so grumpy, and Sid loves him a lot. “It’s time to get up.” 

“Time for crazy person to get up,” Geno mutters, and tugs the blankets up. Sid catches them. He’s all sweaty so he doesn’t really want to properly straddle Geno like he’d like to, so instead he just leans down closer. 

“I’m going to go shower.” 

“Good, can sleep more.” Geno shuts his eyes again. 

“You could join me.” One of Geno’s eyes open. Sid smirks. “I’m just back from my run.” 

Geno’s other eye opens. Sid doesn’t bother looking innocent. Sid knows, and Geno knows he knows, just how much he likes peeling Sid out of his workout clothes. Sid doesn’t really get it–he’s gross and sweaty, it’s not particularly attractive–but Geno’s into it, and it gives Sid even more motivation to work out, so everyone wins, and Sid’s not going to not take advantage of it. 

“Evil, Sid,” Geno tells him, and then he grabs Sid’s t-shirt and pulls him down as he rolls, so Sid ends up on his back with Geno on top of him, glaring down in a way that would be a lot more convincing if he weren’t also staring at Sid’s lips. 

“Come on, Geno. I’m gross. Now we’re going to have to change the sheets,” Sid complains, also probably not convincingly. He’s got no complaints about where he is. 

Now it’s Geno’s turn to smile smugly. “If we have to change anyway, might as well take advantage,” he decides, and really, he has a point. 

///

They do eventually shower, and then Geno works on getting dressed as Sid goes into the kitchen to start on breakfast. They aren’t usually breakfast people–Sid’s the type to grab a protein bar or smoothie on his way out, and Geno’s the type to sleep until noon when breakfast is no longer relevant, which he claims it the prerogative of a grad student–but today, Sid thinks its worth it. 

Geno wanders out of the bedroom a few minutes later, comes over to watch as Sid beats some eggs into batter. “Pancakes?” he asks, hopeful. 

“First day of the new semester pancakes,” Sid agrees. “Coffee in the machine.” 

“Love you,” Geno tells him, dropping a kiss to the top of his head, which always makes Sid make a face because he’s not actually short, dammit, and goes to get coffee. “We have bacon too?” 

“Are you planning to make it?” Sid asks. He’s finished making the batter, so he pours a careful cup onto the griddle. 

“Siiiid,” Geno whines, and comes close again to crowd against Sid’s back and nuzzle into his neck. Sid can smell the coffee on his breath, mixed with the mint of his toothpaste. “Bacon best way to celebrate first day of semester.” 

“Oh it is?” Sid asks, rolling his eyes, but they both know he’s going to cave, because Geno is an unrepentant bully about shit like this and Sid has a problem saying no to him. 

“Yes,” Geno informs him, and there’s a shit-eating grin in his voice even if Sid’s not going to look at him to see it. “Definitely.”

“Ugh, fine.” Sid sighs. “Go get it.”

“You best,” Geno informs him, and goes to get the bacon. 

They eat at the counter, Sid shoveling in food because he’s still hungry from his run and Geno half eating and half laughing at Sid. it’s mainly in silence, because they’ve done this for almost two years now, but it’s comfortable. Easy. Sid can imagine doing it for another fifty. Even if he hasn’t actually said as much yet, because he knows he gets intense fast and it can be a lot for some people. He doesn’t think it will be for Geno, but it’s better not to risk it. 

Sid’s phone buzzes halfway through beakfast, and he grabs it to check it, smiles. 

“Flower and Vero are really enjoying Paris, it looks like,” Sid says, handing the phone to Geno so he can see the picture of the two of them in front of the Eiffel Tower. “Even if they’re going to the most touristy places, seriously.” 

“Good that they can manage schedule like that,” Geno agrees, handing back the phone. Sid lets out a longing sigh. 

“Next year,” he promises, like he has for a semester. God, he is so sick of classes. “I won’t be tied to classes anymore.” 

“You want to travel, then?” Geno asks, looking at Sid’s phone with a twist to his lips. 

Sid shrugs. “On two grad student’s salaries? Let’s be real. Flower swung that trip because Vero is actually gainfully employed.” He barely pauses at the brief confusion on Geno’s face. “She’s employed in a real way,” he clarifies. He’s used to that–Geno’s english is great for someone who only came to the US for his PhD, but it’s far from perfect. The little translation things like that are easy. Sid knows that it gets harder, sometimes, when they both get frustrated about their inability to communicate big ideas or what they’re feeling, but little things like this are easy. 

“Okay, but–if money does not matter,” Geno insists. “You want travel? Go to Europe?”

“I mean, it’d be cool.” Sid shrugs again. “I’ve never been. I’d like to be someplace interesting, for a change.” He grins at Geno. “You could show me Russia.” 

Geno’s face does the complicated twisting thing that comes up when he thinks about Russian politics, which isn’t what Sid meant to do. He knows that the mere fact of him makes life difficult for Geno, and he can’t regret it, really–he doesn’t want to be anyone other than he is, and he wouldn’t give Geno up for anything–but he doesn’t like that it’s true. 

“Anyway,” Sid goes on, before Geno can think about it too much. “It’s just a pipe dream, because we’re going to be paying off student loans for the next forever, and until you discover the cure for cancer, traveling’s not in the budget.” 

“How about when you become prime minister?” Geno counters, smiling again, and Sid rolls his eyes and tries not to look pleased about how much Geno believes in him. 

Then he looks at the clock. “Oh, shit, I should get dressed.” he puts his plate aside, then leaves the door to the bedroom open as he pulls on jeans. “Are you in the lab until late?”

“No, can be home by seven,” Geno calls back. “Library?” 

“I’ve got class until three.” Sid grabs a plain grey t-shirt and tugs it on, then comes back out into the living room, scooping up his computer and the notebook it’s sitting on so he can shove it into a bag. “Then yeah, I’ll be in the library. Text about dinner?“

“Good,” Geno agrees, and catches Sid by the arm to reel him in before he goes to put his shoes on. Sid lets him draw him in, then kiss him, long and slow. “Happy first day of semester,” he says, and Sid grins back at him. 

“Happy first day of the semester,” he agrees, and heads to his first class. 

He has a seminar on Intellectualism and Democracy in Post-War North America  first, and then he grabs lunch on his way to his next class. He settles in near the back–it’s more of an undergrad class, even if he spots a few other grad students he knows around–and opens up his computer to take notes on. Geno’s texted, proposing Indian for dinner; Sid agrees, but only if Geno picks it up from the good place that doesn’t deliver. 

The professor starts talking about the syllabus, and Sid glances up, sees him–a man probably ten years older than Sid, with blonde hair that’s thinning in a way that Sid associates with Russians, even if he will never ever tell Geno that–then looks back down at his computer. He has emails about the grad student hockey league to field, and his advisor’s starting to push him on really narrowing down a topic for his thesis. 

“And also here with us are our two teaching assistants,” Professor Gonchar goes on. Sid tunes in with half an ear–they’ll be doing grading, have office hours, Sid knows how that works– “Natasya Ivanov, and Evgeni–” Sid looks up, eyes wide. And yes, there he is–Sid would know him from miles away at this point. “Malkin.” 

Geno looks out at the students, and Sid can tell the moment he meets Sid’s eyes, because he is clearly feeling the same as Sid–oh,  _shit_. 

///

“Fuck.” 

“Yes,” Geno agrees. They’re standing in the hall outside the class–thankfully, no one had given them second looks as everyone else left class, probably because no one knew either of them yet. Geno leans against the wall. 

“What are we going to do?” 

“Maybe I’m not grade anything of yours. Not a problem.” 

“That’s not a solution!” Sid hisses. “Why didn’t you check the roster before class?” 

Geno rolls his eyes. “I’m think only undergrads take Introduction to Russian.” 

“Why are you even TAing a Russian class?” Sid demands, because that’s easier than freaking out completely. “You have a full schedule, with your other TAing and your labwork.” 

“I fit it in,” Geno says, but he’s looking shifty. 

“Geno.” 

“I want little more cash, fine.” Geno crosses his arms over his chest looking sulky like he always does when he’s forced to admit something he didn’t want to. “Why you in the class?” 

Sid focuses on Geno’s face. “I need it for my thesis.” 

“If you want learn Russian, I teach.”

Now Sid rolls his eyes. “Geno, the Russian you teach me is not something I can use in my thesis.” 

Geno’s smile flashes. Whatever, maybe Sid’s getting conditioned to hearing certain Russian phrases in bed, and maybe it really works for him. That’s not relevant right now. “We can’t both be doing this. It violates–some code of conduct. And looks really bad for both of us, if it gets out. You’ll have to back out of TAing. Can you find someone else to do it?” 

“I’m not back out!” Geno protests. 

“You don’t need the money–” 

“Why you not drop class?” 

“I need it for my thesis!” 

“Your thesis on Canada and US, not Russia! It not relevant. Can drop.” 

“My schedule’s set for the semester, if I drop it now it’ll mess everything up–”

“So I have to mess everything up?” Geno demands, straightening up to his full height so he can loom. Sid is very into it when he does that to be sexy, but not when he does that to intimidate. Especially because Sid has plenty of muscle on him. “Why not you?” 

“It’d be easier for you–” 

“I’m make commitment, Sid!” 

“I can’t change my schedule, Geno!” Sid snaps back, and then they’re both glaring, breath coming hard. 

Geno breaks first, and by breaking it means literally breaking into a torrent of angry Russian. “You so fucking stubborn,” he spits at Sid, who glares back. That’s not a surprise to anyone. 

“No duh,” Sid retorts, which he knows as soon as he says it is the wrong thing to say, because Geno hates people condescending to him more than anything. 

“I’m not drop class,” he tells Sid, and stalks off down the hall. 

“Fine!” Sid yells back. “You can be the one violating policy.” 

“Fine!” Geno yells over his shoulder, and Sid doesn’t wait to hear more before storming out the other way. 

///

Sid spends an angry afternoon in the library, trying to do reading and getting distracted trying to find the university policy for this. He can’t seem to find anything–there are policies for undergrads, and for professors and their grad students, but nothing for two grad students who are in a preestablished romantic relationship who end up being in and TAing the same class. Sid doesn’t get it. They can’t be the first people in this situation. 

Finally, he gives it up for lost, and goes home. Geno clearly hasn’t been back to the apartment since he left this morning–the dishes are done from breakfast but the griddle is still soaking in the sink, and there’s still the pile of clothes on the bed that Geno always goes through before he chooses an outfit that he usually ends up putting away when he gets back, if Sid hasn’t done it first. 

Sid has gotten here first, so he puts the clothes away this time. They’re all so ugly, Sid thinks, fondly. He does not get Geno’s aesthetic at all. 

“I can do,” Geno says, when Sid’s mostly done. Sid looks up. Geno’s leaning on the doorframe, watching Sid warily. His taste is so bad, but Sid could still look at him forever. “Was going to.” 

“I got home first, it’s fine.” Sid hangs up the last shirt. “There, done.” 

“I pick up dinner,” Geno tells him, a clear peace offering. Sid nods. 

They set dinner out on the coffee table, pushing aside the assorted books that usually cover it, and dish out their usual orders. Sid takes a bite. It really is good. And it’s out of Geno’s way. And he can feel Geno watching him, wary and sidelong. 

“I just don’t know how to make this right,” Sid says, setting his fork down. “I’ve been looking all afternoon, and I honestly can’t tell if it’s a violation, but I don’t want anything to smear your reputation, and this could look really bad.” 

“I know.” Geno sets his fork down too. “Sid, why you want take Russian class? Not for thesis.” 

“I–” Sid glances down at his plate, but it’s Geno. He trusts Geno not to be overwhelmed by him. “I just imagine this lasting a long time, and if it does, it’s not fair to you that I can’t speak Russian, at least a little. I want us to be able to communicate. And that means I need to learn Russian.” 

“Sid,” Geno breathes, and there’s the sort of wonder in his voice he had when Sid asked him out. When Sid agreed to moving in together. Sid looks up again, and Geno’s looking at him like he’s the only thing in the world. Then he grins, breaking the moment. “Think that sweetest thing you ever said.” 

“Fuck you, I can be sweet,” Sid retorts, but he knows he’s grinning stupidly too. “What about you? Why do you need the extra money so badly? I thought you were fine.” 

“Am, but.” Now it’s Geno’s turn to go a little red. “You talk about travel, about how Flower and Vero go places, Tanger and Cath–I’m want to take you somewhere nice too. You work hard, deserve it. Deserve all nice things.” 

“Geno,” Sid says, but he can’t help his smile. “You know I don’t care about that. I’m happy wherever you are.” 

“Not mean you not deserve nice vacation,” Geno insists, stubborn. “Also, want to fuck you on beach.” 

Sid snorts. “That I can get behind.” 

“No, I be behind,” Geno corrects, eyes glinting, and Sid bursts into laughter. 

“So, this doesn’t resolve anything, though,” Sid points out, when they’ve finished laughing and Geno’s foot is pressed agains this thigh again. “I mean, we could both drop the class, but–”

“We can ask,” Geno suggests. 

“Ask?” 

Geno shrugs. “If policy not clear, maybe no rule. Worst thing, Professor Gonchar says no, and we figure out then.” 

Sid considers. “Can’t hurt, I guess,” he admits, and Geno grins, then takes Sid’s plate, and sets it aside. 

“Fight done?” 

“That was barely a fight,” Sid objects. Their fights tend to be long and passive aggressive and end in someone sleeping on a friends’ couch. 

“Sid, fight  _done_ ,” Geno asks again, and scoots closer. “Means we made up.” 

“Oh.” Sid still doesn’t love the semantics of it, but also, “Yeah,” he agrees, and tugs Geno in for some make up sex. 

///

“I don’t think it’ll be a problem.” 

“What?” Sid asks. He’d expected Professor Gonchar to put up at least a little more of a fuss. “Just like that?” 

“We can make sure that Natasya or I grade all your papers, and we’ll make a note that I’m aware and have agreed to it.” Professor Gonchar nods. “Neither of you are undergraduates, and from what I’ve heard from faculty, both of you are good people. That should be fine.” 

“But–” Geno’s hand closes around Sid’s waist, his fingers digging in. 

“Thank you,” he says in English, then adds something else in Russian. The professor chuckles. 

“I’ll expect a lot from you, Sidney, if you have your own private Russian tutor,” he says, and then gives them both the sort of look that means a professor is moving on. “Anything else?” 

This is too easy. Sid’s still not sure this is right. “Professor–” 

“No,” Geno interrupts, and pinches Sid, hard enough that he has to work not to jump. “Is all. Thank you, Professor, see you for meeting.” 

Professor Gonchar is clearly trying not laugh at them, but he doesn’t say anything as they leave. 

“I still don’t think it should work like that,” Sid says, as soon as the office door closes behind them. “That doesn’t seem right. I could definitely like, get you to tell me test answers, or–” 

“Sid–” 

“Or even just hints on the test, or–” 

“Sid,” Geno says again, and puts a hand over his mouth. Sid shuts up, but glares. “We win. Is good.” Sid glares harder. “And if you so worries about morals, then probably not a problem.” 

Sid waits for him to move his hand, then, “But other people might not be– fine, I’ll stop!” he yelps, dodging Geno’s hand. 

“Good.” Geno grins. “See, no problem. Is fine. You learn Russian and we go on trip.” 

“Yeah, we really worked the system,” Sid agrees, but he knows he’s pouting. 

“Hmm.” Geno hums, then he glances around, and pulls Sid into an empty class room, and then in short order against the door. “You want test answers so bad? Maybe need to ask really nice.” 

“What– Geno!” Sid sputters, when Geno waggles his eyebrows at him. “No, that’s creepy, we actually do teach kids.” 

“I actually do teach you, now,” Geno points out, and then murmurs something in Russian that Sid has definitely heard him say before when things are getting good. 

“That’s unfair,” Sid complains, but he gets his hands into Geno’s hair. “Also, we should do this at home.” 

“So boring, Sid,” Geno sighs, but he steps away from Sid–or he would, if Sid let him go. Which he hasn’t. 

“Yeah, but you like it,” Sid points out, grinning. He pulls at Geno’s hair until he leans down, closer to Sid. “Now what do I have to do to get a Russian lesson around here?” 

“I’m give you lesson,” Geno grumbles, and then stops grumbling when Sid shuts him up with a kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Want to talk about it? Comment or come chat on tumblr at [ fanforthefics!](http://fanforthefics.tumblr.com/)


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